I Do Not Think it Means What You Think it Means

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Happy, happy holidays! After a lovely Thanksgiving where the only food I had to provide was a pie from the local cider mill, we’re smack dab in the middle of the holiday craziness. Shopping is more or less done- but wrapping? Well, let’s not talk about it. The kids played in 3 basketball games between 9 am and 12 pm today, I’ve forgotten to buy eggs the past 2 times I’ve been at the grocery store and the stomach bug cycled through the house this week.

Let’s all just agree to pretend that I 100% have my life together- it’s easier that way. To distract myself from the wrapping I’m still not doing, I want to tell you a Scorch story (shared with him permission). Why? Because tweens are my most favorite!

~*~*~*~

About a year ago, we had The Talk with Scorch. We debated and hemmed and hawed over when the right time was, but he was going to learn about puberty in school (something we had already discussed) shortly there after and he had been making enough comments that we knew he was curious about how babies were made. So one cold winter night, he and I had a very frank discussion about the mechanics of sex. I prefaced the conversation by telling him that this would be one of many, many conversations we’d have about the subject – but that I wanted him to get his info from us and not around the lunch table.

You guys- it may have been one of the funniest conversations we have ever, ever had. The shock and horror when he realized that the Hubs and I had “done that disgusting things TWICE?!” was something I’ll never forget.

A week or so ago, Scorch and I were out running errands and we ran into a family friend in the store. When we did, she was in the middle of telling the person she was talking to a story about her teenager. Said teenager has a significant other and my friend came home and realized the teens were making out thanks to the “remnants” they had left in the house. My sweet friend was trying to be discreet and used that exact word in front of Scorch instead of the word “hickey”, trying to protect his 11 year old ears.

The minute Scorch and I were alone together in the car, he very quickly blurted out the following all in one breath:

“Mom- what’s a remnant? Because when the cat poops outside of the litter box, Dad calls that a remnant! Are you telling me when those teens got done making out, the boy pooped on the girl’s floor?! When we had the talk, you NEVER said anything about pooping!! Were you saving that for another talk!?!?!?!?”

I almost drove the car off the road I was laughing so hard! The poor kid was so earnest and so confused and so, so disgusted. I had to very quickly explain why our friend used that word and exactly what she meant, otherwise I shudder to think what would happen a few years from now when Scorch gets his first girlfriend.

Idonotthink

 

 

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About Heather

I am the lucky mom to two kids. Scorch is my baseball obsessed 9 year old son and Bean is my crazy, loving 7 year old little girl. I'm happily married to the Hubs. We live in the middle of nowhere with two cats and one certifiably crazy dog.

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